


What Goes On Tour

by StripySock



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Public Display of Affection, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rimming, Rock Stars, Wall Sex, blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 22:43:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1619636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StripySock/pseuds/StripySock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen Ackles had his life planned out and being a rock star wasn’t part of it. One night with Jared Padalecki later, and nothing is ever the same again. Now all he has to do is get Jared to try the sex bit again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Goes On Tour

**Author's Note:**

> Written for smpc. 
> 
> With big thanks to plinytheyounger for beta-ing. Much appreciated!

Jensen snatched the mic and howled the next lyric. He was ninety percent sure that he'd sung the wrong one-  'wanna fuck you downtown' instead of 'wanna suck you off / until you've lost that frown' but from the looks of the crowd not a single person had noticed. They hadn't even noticed that he was singing Gen’s backup words, while she was being copiously and loudly sick into a bucket just off stage, as a fan held back her hair for her, having somehow slipped past the barrier. Not that they really had barriers per se. Or a stage even sometimes. They did have one dude in a suit who hung around at the back and who kept saying things like 'we want to sign you' and 'maybe if you did something about the hair.' Jensen thought he might be an agent, but Jensen also hadn't really stopped drinking for a week so he wasn't entirely sure.

 

Screw him. Jensen fucking loved his hair. Jensen fucking loved everyone. He didn't realize he'd screamed that at the crowd until they screamed it back. This was  _way_  better than accountancy. If you screamed 'I fucking love you' at an auditor, they generally screamed back 'security'.

 

He still wasn't sure what exactly he was doing here of course. Three months ago, he'd been gently decomposing into the sort of man who had a Newton's cradle on his desk and a sign saying _you don't have to be crazy to work here but it helps_  hanging unironically on the wall, until Jared had turned up. Jared who had spotted the guitar in his apartment after a deeply unsatisfying one night stand (Jared had been too drunk to get it up and Jensen had been too drunk to stop trying) and convinced him to play. And then convinced him to give it a shot live. To Jensen's protestations that he didn't know the music, the lyrics, the staging, Jared had shrugged and pointed out that mostly neither did the rest of them.

 

It had been shambolic; Jared had given head to a blow-up doll more generously proportioned than a porn-star, Danneel had had a reaction to a tablet (that turned out to be aspirin), Gen had propositioned the mayor and been asked to leave the town within twenty four hours, and Jensen had made his parents very unhappy by handing in his resignation with the plea that he was twenty three and too young for a life sentence. About four hours later, he'd had a panic attack, sitting straight up in bed, and hyperventilating at what he'd done. It'd taken several kind pats from Danneel that were closer to whacks on the back for him to calm down. He'd say he hadn't looked back, but he had, often and vigorously, at a room of his own as opposed to a bus or disgusting motel rooms, at the time when he hadn't known what food poisoning was, or that if you forgot to wash hair dye out in time then it'd burn your scalp.

 

He'd also never been happier in his life. He'd followed a life pattern with intent since he was eleven - AP classes, good college, secure job. It felt appropriate that the one stupid, wild thing he'd done in his whole life, was this big. It needed one thing to make it better, but since that first night, when he'd ended up fucking his career instead of Jared, he'd put that in the 'one day, maybe' bin. Jared hadn't crawled back into his bed, and since Jared was remarkably unshy about what he wanted, Jensen had put the one night stand in the poor decisions bracket along with some vague idea about how band members shouldn't fuck - an illusion that quickly crumbled when he saw Jared with his tongue down Gen's throat after a performance. He'd (strictly objectively of course, and not at all with a kick of envy in his belly) admired the aesthetic look of it, and gone for the hard stuff.

 

After some careful prodding of Danneel for answers, she'd yielded the information that Gen and Jared had dated eons ago but that didn't stop either of them from enjoying sex together unless something better came along, and that Jensen should just go for it if that's what he wanted. "I'd offer the same for the sake of symmetry," she said before she shoved a pillow over her head, "but I don't want to. Now go and creep at their door." By door, she meant curtain that was doing a poor job of noise control, so Jensen took her advice - and shoved a pillow over his own head and invested in ear plugs.

 

Not that he'd have had time for mooning, if mooning was what he'd wanted to do. Not every night was as chaotic as that first one, and, in between the benders, there was actual work to be done. The financial management of the band had been on dirty bits of paper before Jensen turned up, and it took some serious juggling to make any sense of the figures until Danneel shamefacedly admitted that they were at least partially funded by Danneel's mother who was something big at Silicon Valley. "She's a hippy," Danneel had confessed. "Well, ex-hippy. She goes bare-foot a lot, talks about letting the wind take her. I rebelled a lot when I was a kid. Did great at school, wore a bunch of knee length skirts, got through a lot of gel pens. She was very disappointed. This makes her happy. We do a Bob Dylan cover every now and then to keep her sweet. Change the lyrics to pro-war rhetoric so she feels like I'm kicking the traces over properly. We have a shouting match about the Iraq war and she gives me a check to finance my depravity."

 

Once that problem was solved, Jensen had tackled the rest of it with ease, kicked in the savings he had, and started running from the student-loans people. He wasn't exactly surprised when Jared started hanging out in the corner that Jensen had colonized as his own, with his calculator and the receipts and various scraps of paper that comprised their financial records. "Hey," Jared had said, and flopped down with his head on Jensen's knee. "You should include that stuff Little Suzie sold us."

 

"I'm not entirely sure the scrapings of Little Suzie's drugs-mobile count as deductibles," Jensen said absently, and couldn't resist combing his fingers through Jared's hair which, despite vigorous applications of dye, was still pretty soft. Jared seemed to approve because he melted onto Jensen's knee, closed his eyes, and went to sleep just like that, while Jensen worked. It was actually pretty comfortable, so Jensen didn't shove him off, but left him where he was until he needed to get food.

 

After that, Jared always seemed to be there, cheerful and sound, and if Jensen would occasionally have swapped all that friendship, all those great moments together, for the chance to roll over and blow Jared until he came his brains out, well that was a matter between him and his God. Or his Anton LaVey. He wasn't sure if worshipping Satan came as standard with being part of a touring rockband, though that's what his mother had seemed to think last time she called, not angry, just disappointed that he'd turned from God to suck Satan's dick. Not that she'd put it like that, of course, but the hint came through loud and clear. It hadn't prevented her from sending him a care package that had pursued him through three states, his dad's specialty-bake oatmeal cookies included. If he was going to go to the devil, he was going to do it on a full stomach, seemed the upshot.

 

That had been another surprise - how popular the band was in relative terms, and how much that popularity meant travelling. Gen filled him in on the details, while painting first her toe-nails and then Jensen's fingernails. He'd had about five minutes worth of irrational jealousy before commonsense reasserted itself, mostly because Gen was fucking adorable and had an extensive knowledge of 18th century literature that she was more than happy to share, and which in fact occasionally manifested itself in lyrics about Moll Flanders sexual adventures - Jensen hadn't even  _known_  prick had so many rhymes. She'd been at college, Jared had been gigging since he was sixteen, Danneel had joined when they'd put out an advert for a drummer - they'd picked her mostly because she could play louder than any of the other candidates. They'd played the local area until Gen had finished her degree. "We thought it would end when me and Jared did," she admitted candidly and swapped hands. "But the band was bigger than us by then. We started gigging out, Jared got us play-space at a few places, and they asked us back. NME sent a journalist round to do a mini-interview, so like, we have fans in England maybe? Now we're just waiting for Rolling Stone to hear the buzz."

 

Jensen pulled his hands back and inspected his nails - a very tasteful hot pink and black combo. "It looks like Avril Lavigne's puked up on my hands," he said baldly.

 

"Aw baby, that means you're real punk now," she said. "After all you haven't made it until Avril Lavigne's called you a poser in the single most hypocritical statement of the 2000s."

 

Jensen snorted and then did the maths. "Wait, a second. That means I'm the oldest here right?"

 

"Yeah. That makes you my honorary grand-dad. Hand over the hard candies. You're three years older than me and like four years older than Jared. Toes?"

 

"No," he said, curling his feet up and under. There were limits to what Jensen would do, even like this. Of course that was how he ended up on stage that night with a full matching set which he kept catching himself trying to curl under so nobody could see, until he realized after his jeans split during a particularly athletic leap from the rickety barrier to the stage, that it wasn’t his nails anyone was looking at.

 

Hell though, it wasn’t the fact that his nails were painted, his jeans had split badly enough that he was glad he’d opted for underwear or that Gen was being violently sick that was cycling through his mind and prompting outbursts to the crowd. It was what Jared had said to him before they’d got on stage, already late because Jensen had only just crawled out a borrowed shower. Something about not wanting to lose Jensen’s friendship, and all Jensen could think about with a sudden heaviness to his belly, was that this was Jared’s way of letting him down sweet and easy, one terrible night of sex not enough incentive to try again.

 

“It’s cool dude,” he said, and bless his mom for the stone cold poker face he’d inherited from her. “You’re not into me. Not a problem, yeah?” He didn’t realize he sounded like Jared until he’d said it, and damn him for sneaking into Jensen’s goddamn vocal cords as well as everything else.

 

Jared’s face was changing as he spoke though, a complicated cycle of emotions, culminating in a suspicious look of triumph. “You mean you might be into me?” he said.

 

“Fuck, we’re going to have to wait for this conversation,” Jensen said. “We’re supposed to be on stage already.” For the rest of the performance, from the fatal leap to the barrier, he’d been aware of Jared’s gaze on his back, the hotly exhilarating pound of blood in his veins, the mix of euphoria from playing to the crowd and the thought that maybe, just maybe he’d got it all wrong.

 

Everything changed when Gen got back on stage and took back her mike, and Jared, apparently convinced that now was the right time to go completely mad, sunk right down to his knees and leant his head against Jensen's leg, and Jesus, Jensen was getting actually worried by then. Jared must be pretty fucked if he wasn’t able to even stand up, and he looked over at Danneel to catch her eye and consult as to whether they should call it quits and get off the stage. That was until Jared tugged at his hand, and Jensen looked down and realized that Jared was giving him a look that wasn't gone or even going. It was smug and there was a light in his eyes that made Jensen weak at the knees. Made him think of how much he wanted Jared to fuck him. How ridiculously long he'd been waiting.  Then Jared was rubbing himself over Jensen's crotch, like he could get at his dick through tight black denim, and Jensen held onto the guitar with fingers that barely remembered what they should be doing, because holy Christ, the way Jared looked at him, calm and steady and ready to go down on him in the middle of a crowd just to prove to Jensen that he wanted him. He could feel the way Jared's fingers had settled on his hips and were sliding round to get at his zipper, his world narrowed right down to only that.

 

There was a distant roar in his ears, and he knew dimly that the crowd must be pissing themselves with excitement at the sight, but all he could see was Jared on his knees, looking up at him, resolute. Then all he saw right after that was a sweep of purple tinged hair as Jared yanked down his pants just enough to get at the swell of Jensen's dick, and mouth across the bulge, wet and sloppy through the cloth, and Jensen could barely feel it, but just the visual was enough to make him want to blow. He bucked forward helplessly towards Jared, every shred of shame spooling away, and it was at that moment, ten minutes from the end of his set, that he registered that the owner of the venue, a massive pinstriped presence, was standing in front of them, one hand in Jared's collar and hauling him away.

 

“We are not,” he said and paused for effect, “licensed for sex shows. Under the county’s general licensing laws in particular the 1995 ordinance, we're required to subject an application to allow any sort of sex show, including topless dancing to the county. You're not covered."

 

Jared stood up, and shook himself free. "The last time I was here, you let a man piss himself," he pointed out.

 

"Not my department sonny," the man said. "You can finish your set or you can leave right now."

 

The crowd, unsure of whether it was a set-up was being to grow restless. "We'll finish the show," Jensen said, and tried not to think about Jared mouthing his dick, tried not to be aware of the heavy weight between his thighs, or the fact that the stupid bastard had wanted it all along and kept quiet for some reason, pushed his head onto Jensen's knee and pretended not to want anything more. He didn't remember a single note he played, or a single word of Jared's banter with the crowd. He was even only peripherally aware of the crash of Danneel's drums and the bone-tingle of Gen’s bass.

 

Afterwards, Gen and Danneel did the mingling and signing - he was kind of pleased that there was an actual little signing crowd, and Jensen fought through the crowd to get to where Jared had pushed his way to the bar. When he got there, Jared hunched himself over, and it was the stupidest thing that Jensen had ever seen - this six foot four dude with streaked red and purple hair, hunched up like Jensen was ever gonna hurt him. "I'm sorry," Jared said and he sounded it. "I thought you might not be interested, but it just seemed like the right thing to do in the moment." He pushed a hand back through hair that Jensen knew was softer than it looked. "Shit dude, just don't leave alright. It'd fucking suck if you left."

 

"For someone who knows the entire lyrics of Nevermind you're pretty bad at remembering something said to you about two hours ago," Jensen said conversationally. "I told you we should wait. Not that we shouldn't do it."  Jensen nodded at the bartender, who poured a couple of shots. It wasn't quite a rider, but he wasn't demanding payment either. "I think you said something about fucking me up a wall?"

 

Jared went still beside him. "I didn’t," he protested and then after a second added carefully. "On second thoughts I think I did."

 

"I kind of have to ask why we're still standing here then," Jensen replied and knocked back the shot.

 

The way things had worked out in this city, they'd got a hotel room between them for once, and the girls were sharing as well, and while Jensen was pretty sure that the drywall wasn't going to hold up to what he hoped would be a vigorous fuck, he was also incredibly anxious to find out if he was wrong. The rare time (scratch the rare because that was a lie) he'd thought about it, he'd kind of thought Jared would be easygoing, like a slow hint of Texas would work it's way into his fucking.

 

He'd never been happier to be wrong in his life. Jared had him by the lapels of Jensen's stupid jacket thirty seconds after they entered the room, and pushed him against the wall, plastered himself up against Jensen and went to town on him, first, long ridiculous kisses, the sort Jensen hadn’t shared in years - too eager always to get to the main event, as Jared’s hands slipped down, insinuated themselves between Jensen’s ass and the wall, and then with the barest minimum amount of hesitation, pulled at the stupid gap in Jensen's jeans that he'd almost forgotten about, rubbed two fingers against the cotton of Jensen's boxers like it was the best thing he'd ever felt, then pushed through them until the material was ground up against Jensen, hard pressure of Jared's fingers behind it. Jensen could feel the soft rasp of it against him, the implicit promise in it, and consciously pushed back, just a little, kiss forgotten for the moment, mouth against mouth but parted as it sunk in, that they were finally fucking doing this, after too many months of pretending it wasn't in the air between them.

 

“Stop being such a tease,” he managed to get out, as Jared got most of his hand in and cupped Jensen’s ass, thumb stroking the little crease at the top of Jensen’s ass until all he wanted was to get this particular show on the road.

 

“Not teasing,” Jared said, and squeezed Jensen’s ass, fingers digging in just a little, right amount of pressure. “Enjoying,” and that was the final straw, Jensen’s fingers getting to his own buckle if Jared wasn’t about to oblige, useless hands making heavy work of his belt and then the zipper, until Jared assisted, shoving them down, as Jared followed them down, knees heavy on the floor as he looked up at Jensen. “I think I promised you something,” he said, and suited his actions to his words as he hooked his thumbs into Jensen’s boxers and dragged them down, then took Jensen’s dick in his hand, soft thumb sweeping over the head, collecting a little slickness, because Jensen could admit he’d been hard since the first time Jared had gone to his knees on stage. He leant his head back against the wall, hands clutching futilely at the air, as Jared took his sweet damn time, sucking his thumb into his mouth, all porn and promise, a long slow suction as though he was enjoying watching Jensen squirm like that. When he ran his fingers up Jensen’s dick, Jensen almost knocked him out; his hips thrust forward so fast, head thunking against the wall.

 

Jared took pity on him at that it seemed, circled his fingers at the base of Jensen’s dick, curled them around, and finally, finally got Jensen in his mouth, swallowing him deep, his mouth wide and stretched and obscene looking, and Jensen could feel the last of the whisky burning away in his veins, replaced by whatever this is; Jared’s soft lips and hard hands, hot and heavy on him. He found his fingers in Jared’s hair, combed them absently through, and when he encountered a snag and accidentally tugged on it, Jared gave a choked sound and slammed deeper onto Jensen’s dick, all the way in, and Jensen only kept his balance through pure willpower at the feeling of every inch of his dick being sucked in that deep, Jared’s hands were back on his ass then, pulling him forward and meeting him at every grasp, before one hand slid between Jensen’s thighs and pushed at the tight curve of his ass, a dry attempt at intrusion that centred every sensation Jensen had right there. He used the hand in Jared’s hair to pull him off, stared at the sight of Jared on his knees, mouth red and bruised from sucking Jensen off, tears in the corner of his eyes from the strain and he couldn’t take it another second.

 

Jared got it, from nothing more than the way Jensen looked at him, and didn’t even bother getting up, just curled a hand around Jensen’s hip and pulled him around until he was facing the wall, hot face pressed against the cool plaster, inches away from the cheapest reproduction of Waterlilies that he’s ever seen, but all thoughts left his head, when Jared got his hands back on his ass, gripped him hard and got both thumbs in and spread him wide and ready, Jensen’s back bowed down and in as he grabbed at the wall, fought for traction as Jared made him beg for it without even telling him to, as he spread Jensen open and got close enough to lick him open, messy and without any technique, like he enjoyed fucking Jensen like this so much that everything had been driven from his brain, un-coordinated and rough, and good enough that Jensen forgot everything except sliding his legs wider and hanging onto the wall for dear life. Every bit of him ached like this, legs shaky from hours on stage already, and Jared wasn’t holding back, wasn’t just fucking him slow and deep with his tongue: he’d dragged fingers across the tip of Jensen’s cock again, and got one in next his tongue like he wanted everything all at once - Jensen’s dick, Jensen’s ass, Jensen’s everything. Jensen was more than happy to oblige.

 

It could have been minutes or hours for all he knew or cared, as Jared fucked him open with fingers and tongue, ripped Jensen’s breathing apart until it was rough and ragged and catching in his lungs, as sweat beaded on his forehead, stinging his eyes until he closed them shut against it. When Jared finally pulled away, Jensen almost buckled, but steeled his legs against the abandonment and leaned his weight against the wall again. Jared got up from the floor, and slotted himself up against Jensen’s back, dick sliding easily through the groove of his ass and pressing against him.

 

“Do you know what I’m gonna do?” he said, and his fingers were back, sliding in Jensen’s hole, as though he was already accustomed to its give at his touch. “When we’re less tired, I’m going to hold you up against that wall and fuck you, feet off the ground, so you slide down deeper on my dick, before you lever yourself off just a little and slip right down again. It’ll be deeper than you’ve ever been fucked before, I guarantee it. You’ll grasp at that wall to balance yourself and then give in, and jerk yourself off, so tight around me, coming just like that.” His voice was hoarse and raw and deep from jamming Jensen’s cock half way down his throat.

 

Jensen could picture every word he said, felt his dick jerk against the wall and got his hand around it as Jared fucked him with his fingers. “All talk, no balls,” he said, leant his face on his arm for a moment to dry it, “just get on it Jared.”

 

Jared pulled out, and Jensen held in a groan as Jared fumbled through a drawer and came back in seconds with a sachet of lube and a condom: he bit his tongue as Jared got the condom on and slicked himself up. Jared got a couple of fingers back into Jensen with the benefit of lube this time, so much easier all round. When Jared finally got his dick into Jensen, Jensen wasn’t sure which of them made the loudest sound but he thought it might be him. Jared was huge, a stretch even with the lube and work up, but Jensen couldn’t get enough of him like this, of the way he touched Jensen, fingers skimming his side, rare and reverent like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

 

Something in Jensen responded to that, not merely to the way that Jared was taking him to his limits and pushing on past, but the care behind it, like he’d wanted this as long as Jensen had. It made Jensen think revolting thoughts, the kind he shouldn’t be having while his ass was stuffed like this, relentless and insistent and so full that he felt like he couldn’t take anymore. Made him think of Jared going to his knees in front of God and their audience at even the thought that maybe Jensen wanted this as much as him, and the way it felt like Jared was what he most wanted from this new life, even with everything else in front of him. Made him think of what it would be like to feel this raw and bare, knowing he was the only one who got to, or fucking Jared until he was wet and sloppy and desperate for more, feeling a tenth of what Jensen was in this second. His seconds long train of thought cut off as Jared bottomed out, and Jared’s fingers curled around the hand Jensen was bracing himself with on the wall as he finally got down to the fucking.

 

Braced as he was, Jensen met each thrust with a slight sway backwards, just enough to get them so close that he couldn’t take anything more. Jared’s fingers were slipping against his own now, exertion weakening them as his other hand joined Jensen’s second hand on his dick, a heedless, thoughtless jerking off, but one that made the heat rise for the final time in Jensen’s belly. There was a long overdue orgasm waiting in the wings as Jared screwed him deep and hard and with intent, like he needed Jensen to remember this when they were done. Jensen couldn’t imagine ever forgetting.

 

He came, hot and wet and messy all over Jared’s hand, and felt Jared let out an  _oh_  by his ear and his final strokes sped up, a bone-shivering jolt through Jensen’s over-sensitive body as Jared’s hand wrung the last drops of come from Jensen’s dick before he came, biting down hard on Jensen’s shoulder, fingers clenching tighter into his hand. They swayed like that for a long moment, until Jensen finally felt the weakness in his knees. Jared held the base of the condom and slid out, every inch of him too big now they were done, but Jensen couldn’t regret a second. It was more of a hobble over to the bed than a stride, he had to admit, but he made it there, and lay face down on faintly bleached sheets, breathing in the starchy smell and not even thinking about moving, or sleep.

 

When he turned to the side finally, Jared was hovering there, looking worried. “Get down here,” Jensen said sleepily. “They don’t pay for heating here.”

 

Jared flopped down next to him and amused himself with a good hard smack to Jensen’s ass that perversely stirred a little bit of interest in Jensen’s dick. “You’re on my bed anyway,” he pointed out.

 

“Share and share alike isn’t that your motto?” Jensen yawned.

 

“When it comes to Gen’s weed, yes,” was the answer, but he nudged Jensen over anyway, and fit his body against him, sticky as it was. “We still might have to talk,” he said, eyes closing of their own accord.

 

“Maybe,” Jensen muttered, and lost the rest of the sentence to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback very much appreciated.


End file.
